Days of Paper Flowers
by Rinsom Lost
Summary: When England and Canada accompany America on his trip to an annual Memorial Day family reunion, they remember that often the worst scars are the ones which can't be seen. No pairings, but does contain various state OCs.
1. Chapter 1

The heat bore down that day in early June, as oppressive and inescapable as the conflict that lay before the men crouching in the forests of Virginia.

Throughout the wooded area the groups converged, some in blue, some in grey, and many in plainclothes, distinguishable only by the colors they flew and fought under.

Smoke and dust filled the air, mingling with battle cries and bullets, volley's of the latter flying free, missing some and hitting others. Men were brought down swiftly from their positions; loading guns, shouting orders, holding the colors high, it didn't matter what job one was engaged in or what rank one held, fate, and with it death, came as surely for one as it did another.

Many, that day, as they felt their life draining onto the ground, thought of tasks left undone and promises broken, others thought of home and family; most thought of both. Some, who were lucky enough, passed on messages: "The key is under a floorboard," "Keep faith," "Tell them I loved them".

But some spoke, in final moments, of a man walking through the woods. They had thought 'some poor fool's wandered out here,' because he wore no uniform, had no weapons or gear, and walked straight into the line of fire. But then the man had turned to look at them with blue eyes so deep they thought they would be sucked in, never to return. "Perhaps we didn't," one had said.

Most took the story for the ramblings of the dying, hallucinations whispered on tremoring, bloody lips. Others had heard it before and knew it for an omen, telling their comrades around a fire later that night, "Pray you don't see him. He's surely death himself," that strange blond haired man walking amongst them in battles, unseen by all but the damned, whose ghostly body shots passed neatly through, there and yet all the while never there at all.


	2. Chapter 2

"Why am I here?" England sighed, while trying to clear out a larger space for himself in the cramped backseat of America's old Ford pickup.

"Dude. It's not like I'm making you come along." America said, in the drawl that always appeared while traveling through his southern states.

"Did you expect me to simply catch the next flight back over?" England replied, shoving aside the tackle box that seemed quite adamant about poking him in the side.

"Naw, but telling me you were coming would've been nice."

"You mean like the notice you so graciously gave me two months ago. Oh wait," England said, leaning forward into the space between the front seats, "I seem to recall being woken up on my day off by a very loud, incessant pounding on my front door."

America turned his head to meet England's glare. "It's a three day weekend. If you were gonna fly over unannounced you should've at least checked to make sure I'd actually be there."

"I can't see why I should have to keep up with all of your public holidays," England snapped.

"Watch the road, Al!" Canada interrupted from the passenger seat, nearly butting heads with England as he grabbed the steering wheel and pulled the truck back into the right lane. "I'd like to get there in one piece."

"Don't stress so much. I got this." America said, pushing Canada back towards the passenger side.

Canada settled back against his seat again, albeit a little uneasily. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"I'm a great driver. Have I gotten you in a wreck before?" America glanced in the rear-view mirror to England who had resumed his previous battle against the backseat's miscellanea. "The tank doesn't count."

Canada raised an eyebrow. He could argue that, yes, the tank did too count. "You haven't gotten me killed yet. But with the way you're driving, plus the fact that we're in this beat up wreck…"

"Nothin' wrong with my pickup," America grumbled, shifting in his seat and curling around the steering wheel a little, as if physically defending it from the insult.

"Except for the air conditioning, the brakes that squeal, the engine that gave you problems a few months ago…" Canada replied, while counting every deficiency on his right hand.

"Hey, hey. I got all those fixed thank you very much." America paused for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay, so the air conditioning ain't worth crap sometimes, but that's only every now and then."

"Like today. We might want to roll the windows down. I think Arthur's going to melt back there."

Upon hearing his name, England stopped fighting with the fishing pole which had tried repeatedly to gouge out his eye, then turned his head towards the window, deftly avoiding America's glance. Admittedly, he was rather warm, despite the fact that he had rolled the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows. A bead of sweat tickled his cheek as it rolled down the side of his face and his bangs had begun sticking to his forehead. The sun, which was glaring in through the windows, unaffected by the trucks visors, didn't help matters either.

"Man, Gonna have to pick you up some T's or something. You'll roast in that getup. Did you pack like that for the whole trip? It's almost June."

Suddenly a blast of air hit England in the face as the windows were rolled down, the relief from the heat near instantaneous. He turned his face towards the window and leaned towards it, pointedly ignoring the grin America flashed at him before turning back around.

"You should be good for the evenings though, at least," America continued. "Matt probably packed enough flannel for all three of us."

"Knock it off, eh." said Canada, who had propped his arm up on the door and was letting his fingers dangle just outside the truck. "You've probably got enough left over from the 90's to keep a grunge band dressed for a month."

"Only 'cause they'd never wash their stuff."

Canada shot his brother an 'I don't believe a word you're saying' look, but turned around towards the front again without commenting, deciding to let the argument go for the moment. He knew that, with England tagging along, there would be plenty more before the weekend was over and if he didn't pace himself he'd probably be ready to kill the entire extended family by Monday. Canada scooted further down into the seat and propped his legs up on the dashboard, then reached over and adjusted the tuner on the radio, finding a new station. He closed his eyes and let himself drift slightly; trying to block out whatever America had started rambling about.

Suddenly, just as he was beginning to feel himself relax, the music changed, halfway through a song, the radio turning to static and blaring commercials before coming to rest on another station. Canada opened his eyes and looked over at his brother, who was smiling innocently, while whistling along with a country song. 'Al wouldn't start a radio war this early in the trip would he?' he thought, glancing at the clock. They'd only been driving for an hour or so. America looked over towards him and grinned, before turning back to look at the road. 'He would', Canada thought irritably. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He'd get even at some point. He just had to wait until America found a station he decided to stick with for more than a few minutes. 'Of course,' he thought, 'knowing Al that could take a while'.

As if on cue, America reached over and turned the station again, smiling over at Canada, then looked back behind his shoulder at England. "We'll stop for a break here in a bit. Should be a Wal-Mart or something coming up. Till then why don't you crack into the cooler back there? You're still not looking so great."

England shook his head. "That's really not necessary, I assure you."

America reached back with his right hand and fished around for a moment before finding the cooler and popping it open. "Why do you think we brought this sucker to begin with? Should find something in there you'd like."

"I wasn't referring to the cooler." England said, before slamming the lid back down. "I think we can get along just fine without making that stop."

"It's no problem. I've got to get gas anyway." America said, waving his hand in dismissal.

"That's not"-

"Hey! The Eagles!" America's hand darted over and turned the radio up. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, before starting to sing along, loudly and off-key, with the chorus.

"Alfred, for the love of God, don't sing!" England yelled over the cacophony coming from the speakers and the front seat.

"Why not? Jealous of my wonderful voice?" America grinned back at him.

"No, you prat. You're making my ears bleed!"

"Al," Canada interjected while turning the radio down, hoping to turn down his brother's volume as well. "Who's on chicken duty this year?"

England was almost afraid to ask. "Chicken duty?"

America answered without turning around. "Every year someone goes on a fried chicken run. That way we're not grilling burgers and hotdogs for fifty. Or at least that's how it's supposed to work. Usually end up making that much anyway. And it's probably us again," he said, turning to Canada, "unless I can rope someone else into it."

"Like that's going to happen," Canada said, as America began humming the song again. He smiled, catching his chance for retaliation, and moved his hand back towards the radio.

"Ha!" America shouted, his arm shooting out in front of Canada, pointing at the sign they were passing. "There we go. What I tell ya? Wally world at the next exit."

England sighed, rubbing his temple. "I never doubted your ability to find the monstrosities. I just question why we have to stop at one at all."

"Dude, Wal-Mart's got everything. This way we can knock out three birds with one stone: gas, snacks, and clothes that won't leave you standing in a puddle of your own sweat."

"Huzzah for American efficiency," England muttered sarcastically.

"Yeah, ain't it great?" America grinned obliviously as they exited the interstate, the superstore looming in the distance.

* * *

><p>England sat on a bench at the end of an aisle in the shoe department, cursing the painful volume of the store's intercom system and looking down at the sneakers and flip flops that sat in his lap.<p>

"Is this really necessary?"

Canada looked up from his position near the bottom row of shoes. "Did you bring anything other than loafers?"

"No."

"Okay. Do you really feel like walking around the woods and lakeside in nice shoes?"

"Well, no."

"Then yes, it is," Canada replied, standing up and stretching his legs.

England stood as well, and then attempted to gather the small stack of clothes that sat beside him on the bench. "If I had packed more appropriately he would have wondered, don't you think? I don't typically come prepared with swimming trunks and trainers, unless I know for certain that I'm going to need them."

Canada reached out to catch a shirt slipping off of its perch on England's right arm.

"I've noticed. Doesn't that get inconvenient?" He said as they readjusted the items slightly, Canada taking hold of a few before they could also fall.

"On the contrary, it's incredibly convenient. It discourages Alfred's tendencies towards random adventuring when I visit. Works wonders on James as well." England shook his head as they started walking towards the front of the store. "The last time I packed without that in mind he had me gallivanting through the Queensland bush for a week. Don't worry; I brought a polo shirt or two, so I'm not completely ill-prepared."

Canada nodded, making a mental note to buy a few items in England's size at a later date. American and Australia weren't the only ones England had used that packing technique on. After a moment, though, he looked over to England and asked, "Why didn't you just tell him the truth?"

"Oh yes. Right. You expect me to just walk up to the dolt and say 'Hello, I'm here to make sure you're not going off the deep end.' I'm sure that would have gone over splendidly. Although I must say, Matthew, I think you might be worrying too much. He seems perfectly normal to me, well, normal for him at least."

"Well, you wouldn't have to put it like that you know. And yes I know he looks fine." Canada paused for a moment and then continued, "He always starts off fine, and I'd like to keep it that way this year. Besides, I wasn't certain I was going to get to come. It's not easy getting so much vacation time off all at once. But maybe with both of us here"-

"Hey, you guys ready to check out?" America called as he walked up, carrying an armload of junk food.

"Go on ahead Al, we're coming." Canada motioned with his free hand.

England and Canada stood silent for a minute, watching America's back as he walked, whistling, to the closest checkout lane.

"You worry too much, lad," England said, when he was certain they wouldn't be overheard. "And, to be quite honest, I think he'd be insulted if he was aware that you thought he couldn't handle Memorial Day weekend." He lifted the shirts out of Canada's hands, continuing, "By Monday you'll see that you're over reacting, and that pulling me into this really wasn't necessary at all."

Canada narrowed his eyes slightly, unnoticed by England, who was already walking forward to join America. He was beginning to question inviting England as well, but for an entirely different reason. He rolled his shoulders, in an attempt to alleviate the tension that had been building up incrementally since he had flown in to Washington the day prior, then looked down at the three small bags of maple coconut haystacks he had in his hand. It wasn't enough maple flavoring to keep him sane for a day, let alone the entire weekend. He looked back towards the candy aisle, wondering if he had enough time to-

"Hey Matt, you gonna just stand there or what?" yelled Al, drawing looks to both him and his brother from nearly everyone within 20 feet.

Canada felt his face flush as he walked towards England and America. Not enough maple at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Notes:<strong> Wow, I never thought I'd get this section done. I had actually planned to get the first chapter out for Memorial Day this year. Yeah, that didn't happen. Writer's block got in the way. Well, that and a bit of laziness. But anyway, thank you for reading. I don't know how long it will be before I post the next part, but hopefully it won't be too long.

And by the way, if anyone was wondering why Canada mentions having difficulties getting so much time off all at once, it's because Canada celebrates Victoria Day a week before the USA has Memorial Day.

Also, if anyone's curious, the Eagles song that came on the radio was "Take it Easy".


End file.
